


The Queen and his Crown

by potter_queen



Series: Gallavich One Shots [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potter_queen/pseuds/potter_queen
Summary: Basically Ian reflecting on the fact that Mickey and Franny are BFFs. That is all. Enjoy xo
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Gallavich One Shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634716
Comments: 12
Kudos: 202





	The Queen and his Crown

Ian had had a long ass day. He loved being an EMT, and he was so grateful that he had managed to get his job back, but sometimes the long hours really got to him. It had been pouring out all day, and the rain made everything a bit harder; the traffic heavier, the driving more precarious, the back of the ambulance messier. There had been no serious incidences that day, just an endless stream of bullshit; people getting themselves into unnecessary and totally avoidable situations. On top of everything, his neck was aching like a bitch from how he had slept the night before (he had passed out, exhausted after Mickey had ridden him till his vision blurred). All Ian wanted right now was to get home, climb out of his sweaty work clothes, and crawl into bed with his husband.

The house was pretty quiet that night. Lip was off with Tami, Carl and Debbie were out with their latest flavours of the week. Only Liam and Franny were home, and the former was so quiet that Ian was occasionally guilty of forgetting that he was there at all.

He wondered what Mickey was doing inside. Likely he was on the floor of the living room with Franny, playing with her dolls or reading her a story. Franny adored when Mickey read to her; these days, he was the only one she wanted to listen to. He would do voices for every character, act out the story and add his own commentary, which would make Franny dissolve into uncontrollable giggles. Ian smiled at the thought as he turned onto his street, grinning to himself despite the rain that was soaking him through.

Mickey’s natural affinity with Franny had come as a surprise to everyone, even, Ian was ashamed to admit, his husband. He had always known that Mickey, at his core, was a soft and loving person, but he chose to only show that part of himself to such a select group of people, and it took years of trust-building for him to feel safe enough to show it. Franny, however, had wormed her way into Mickey’s heart at lightning speed. Around her, Mickey was not just soft and loving, as he was with Ian, but silly and playful and careful and all the things one needed to be a great carer of a child.

Ian suspected that despite being surrounded by a whole host of loving uncles, Franny had been more in need of a stable father-figure than any of them had realised. Her little face lit up when Mickey entered the room. She hung on his every word and giggled at him when he was grumpy. Watching his niece and husband interact had quickly become one of Ian’s favourite things to do.

Finally at the house, Ian squelched up the steps and unlocked the front door. He pushed open the door, looking around expectantly. On days when their schedules meant that Mickey was home before Ian, Mickey would often greet him at the door to push him roughly against the wall and attack Ian’s mouth with his own. When no tattooed hands grabbed his wrists, however, and no impatient body pressed up against his, Ian frowned. Grumpily, he peeled off his wet shoes and socks, shook out his wet coat and hung it up and slumped moodily into the living room, only to be stopped short by the sight that greeted him.

Lying on the couch, flat on his back and totally out for the count, lay his husband. His head was tipped back, his mouth open; a little trail of drool in the corners of his mouth. On his head sat a homemade crown. It was pink and glittery and covered in purple feathers. One of these feathers had found it’s way to Mickey’s forehead, and was stuck fast; it’s artificial colouring staining his husband’s skin.

One of Mickey’s hands was dangling over the side of the couch, fingernails painted enthusiastically with pink and glitter. His other hand was on Franny’s back, who was curled up on Mickey’s chest, fast asleep.

Ian’s heart squeezed at the sight. He wasted no time at all, pulling out his phone and taking dozens of pictures, creeping around the sofa to capture every angle. Ian had to suppress a laugh when he noticed that Franny had cut the sleeves off yet another of her t-shirts (Debbie would be  _ pissed _ ), and her tiny hands were adorned with a set of badass-looking knuckle tats, -clearly courtesy of Mickey- including a skull, a rainbow, a wolf and a very dodgy looking butterfly.

Ian was so busy getting close-ups of Fran’s hands that he didn’t notice his husband waking up above him.

“Pretty sure you’ve got enough now, Annie Leibovitz.”

Ian jumped and flushed guiltily, nearly dropping his phone on the sleeping child below him. He grinned cheekily at Mickey, taking one last photo of his husband for good measure before switching off his phone.

“Hey,” he said, smiling dopily.

“Hey yourself.” Mickey grinned back at him. “You’re dripping everywhere. Smell like a damn wet dog, too.”

“Shut up. Some of us had to walk home in the rain.”

“Excuse you,” Mickey griped back cheekily. “I’ll have you know I had a very important arts and crafts evening with Little Red.”

“I can see that. What are you, exactly? A fairy princess.”

“Fuck off. I’m the damn queen. Fucking obviously.”

“You are a queen alright.” Ian teased happily. His heart always fluttered a little when he saw Mickey embrace his queerness, unafraid and unashamed. 

“Damn straight, Gallagher.” He cut himself off with a giant yawn which nearly dislodged his crown. He began to sit up, careful not to wake Franny as he picked her up.

“Hope you didn’t use permanent marker. Debs will kill you.”

“‘Course it’s permanent,” Mickey replied, unapologetically. “That shit’s art. Gotta last. And I ain't scared of Peppermint Patty. More scared of this little Monkey if they wash off ‘fore she’s ready to see ‘em go.”

Wanting to wait till Mickey got Franny into bed, but finding himself totally unable to wait for another second, Ian bent over Franny to kiss Mickey’s lips, briefly but passionately. 

“I fucking love you, Mick.” Ian’s voice was a little gruff. Mickey’s eyes softened.

“Leftovers on the counter, man. Dino nuggets and beans. And eat your fucking broccoli. That shit’s important.” Mickey bumped their shoulders together as he passed Ian on his way up the stairs, whispering quietly to Franny who was stirring in his arms. 

Ian watching him go, feeling the weight of his day slip off his shoulders. He couldn’t think of anything better than a plate of dino nuggets - and broccoli- that his husband had prepared for him and his niece. When he had eaten he would fill a glass of water and follow Mickey up the stairs. He would take his meds in Mickey’s eye line, pretending not to notice his husband watching him carefully, something which had once irritated Ian so much, and yet not made him feel so loved, so  _ cared for _ . 

Then he would get into the shower to wash away the day. If Mickey hadn’t showered yet he would join him in there. Maybe he would suck Ian off, or maybe Ian would eat Mickey out, holding his asscheeks spread while Mickey moaned and trembled. Or maybe Mickey would be waiting for them in their bed, between the new, fancy sheets they had recently indulged in. He might already be naked, his body soft and hard in all the right places, his skin scarred and tattooed and absolutely bloody perfect. They would fuck. They were both so tired tonight that it would be slow and quiet. They would fill the air with breathy moans and pants, staring into each other's eyes. Then Ian would climb out of bed. He would get a damp washcloth and clean the pair of them up, caring for his husband in small ways that made him feel worthy. Mickey would set their alarms. They would crawl into bed, chatting about their days until they drifted off to sleep.

One day, he wanted his own kid. More than anything else in the world. He dreamed about it at night; holding a little bundle that would complete his family. He’d never had doubts about Mickey’s parenting ability, but seeing him with Franny had cemented his desire to have a child with the man he loved.

But that wasn’t for now. That was for the future. For now, there was nothing that Ian wanted to change.

Ian turned to head towards the kitchen, but before he could go, something caught his eye. Smiling, he stopped to pick up a rouge purple feather from the floor. He ran his thumb over the soft, plasticky material before tucking it into the pocket of his uniform shirt. He’d find it there tomorrow, or maybe in a few days, and it would make him smile.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a fucking comment, im very lonely


End file.
